The Script
by BillA1
Summary: Making a movie about the Justice League can have deadly consequences. A DCAU Wally West /Flash Story.
1. Chapter 1

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**The Script**  
**A Justice League Unlimited Story**  
**by BillA1**  
**Copyright June 2010**  
**Rating: (PG)**  
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Disclaimer: The characters Batman, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman, Flash & Sonia Alcania and their respective secret identities are all owned by DC Comics. This story is intended for my own pleasure and is not for profit. It has been posted to this site for others to read. Places and characters not own by DC Comics are my own creation. This story is based on characters from the animated Justice League series episodes "_Flash and Substance"_ written by Matt Wayne, "_Starcrossed, Part 3"_ written by Dwayne McDuffie and "_Mystery of the Batwoman"_ written by Michael Reaves and Alan Burnett. My sincerest thanks Merlin Missy for the beta; however, any mistakes she missed are mine.

A/N: If the characters seem out of character, then they probably are.

_**The Script**_

Rating: **PG**

Synopsis: Making a movie about the Justice League can have deadly consequences. A DCAU Wally West /Flash Story.

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****CHAPTER ONE  
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_Vivian – "Well! What will your first step be?"  
__Marlowe – "The usual one."  
__Vivian – "I didn't know there was a usual one."  
__Marlowe – "Oh, yes. It comes complete with diagrams on page forty-seven of "How to be a Detective in Ten Easy Lessons," correspondence school textbook." - The Big Sleep, 1946_

(Two years ago at Wayne Entertainment Studios, Hollywood)

It was days like this that made Martin Taylor hate his job. He had all the perks the head of a major studio should have: a big home, a big office with solid wood furniture and a chauffeur-driven fancy car. Yes, he had all the perks and, sadly, all the headaches.

Today's headache was particularly painful. Across from him sat a young man whose father had gone to school with Taylor many years ago and who had prevailed upon Taylor to give his son an interview. But surprisingly, the kid didn't want a job; he wanted to pitch a screenplay. Taylor looked down at the script in front of him and then back at the kid. Even if the script was good and this one wasn't, it was just another screenplay about a subject people had tired of and had tried to shove into their collective dim memory.

The kid was probably wearing the only suit he'd ever owned because it was about one size too small all the way around. Taylor sighed. It was never easy to tell someone that the product they thought was the best thing since sliced bread just didn't cut it. And it was harder when an old school chum asked hoping that Taylor would say yes to his kid. Taylor looked down at the script again, looking for the kid's name. It was Morant, Jonas Morant.

"Well, what do you think?" Morant asked. "It's got love, betrayal, sex, lots of sex, blood and gore. This is a box office killer. With the right casting, it will beat the socks off those pirate movies and big glittering vampire movies."

Taylor tried to smile, but failed miserably. "Look, Jonas," Taylor said. He stood up and walked around his desk until he stood in front of the seated Morant. "We think the script has potential, but we're not ready to produce it just yet. Our production team still says the time is not right and there could be legal problems should the principals decide to sue for defamation."

Morant pushed his seat back and stood. "That's a bogus argument and we both know it. Those guys won't sue. They don't dare sue. The last thing they want is to go to court on anything, because they can't prove defamation. And the way you disallow the damn suit in the first place is to invite them to be the technical advisors on the film. Everyone knows that except you guys at Wayne Entertainment."

Taylor took a deep breath and frowned as Morant continued. "Look, the word is out all over town. You guys aren't interested in making movies. All you want to do is buy scripts about the invasion to keep the movies from being made."

Taylor moved back behind his desk, sat down and motioned for Morant to have a seat. Morant refused and continued to stand as Taylor said, "We're prepared to offer you $250,000 for the script plus one half of one percent of net profits after the film is released."

Morant laughed, shook his head and said, "Thanks, but no thanks. First, we both know you're never going to make this movie because you're offering too much money. This is a great script and I'll find someone to make this movie. Mark my words. You're making a bigger mistake than John Travolta did when he turned down the lead in _Forrest Gump_."

Morant snatched the script off Taylor's desk and stormed out, calling out over his shoulder as he left, "I WILL find someone who has the brass gonads to tell the story of the Justice League collusion with the Thanagarian invasion. Mark my words, I WILL find someone."

(Six months ago – Watchtower Executive Conference Room)

"You can NOT be serious," GL shouted as he slammed his fist on the table. "This is insulting. It's a piece of crap." Wally watched as GL picked up his copy of the movie script Bats had given everyone last night, and slammed it on the table.

"It's considered artistic license with a real event and it's legal," Bats said in his 'I am Batman voice.' GL got the hint and sat down, but it was clear he was still unhappy.

Shayera looked over at GL, before pushing her copy of the script toward the center of the table. "This _is_ trash. According to this, I have some sort of magic crotch that made you all bend to my will."

Wally snickered, but stopped when Diana said, "Lantern is right. It is crap. Did you read this horror on page 27?" She read from the script, "It's the night before the Thanagarian commander speaks before the World Council. Wonder Woman and Superman are naked in bed together and Wonder Woman says, 'Take me, Superman. Take me hard. Make me forget that I come from a land of only women. Make me scream your name. Oh yes…like that. More…'" Diana crumbled the paper in her hand. "This is drivel and it's all lies."

Wally wanted to laugh at Diana's somewhat animated reading, but resisted the urge, fearing Diana's response, and frowned instead. "Well, I object to looking like a complete klutz in this," Wally said, "but the part about you coming from a land of only women isn't a lie. And that's the problem. You'd have to prove in court what part of the script is untrue."

"Well then, we'll go court to stop this," Diana snapped. "They can't be allowed to tell these falsehoods without consequences."

Bats glanced at her for a moment and then stared straight ahead as he asked, "And what is your answer when the movie company lawyer asks you under oath if you ever had sex with Superman or do you still just prefer women?"

"What?" Diana stammered. She looked at Bats with a look Wally would later describe as wilting. "Who I sleep with, _if anyone_, isn't anybody else's business." Her emphasis on the words 'if anyone' wasn't lost on Wally and he figured it wasn't lost on either Supes or Bats if they were paying attention.

"It _is_ if you go to court to prove someone is wrong about your sexuality or your sex partners," Bats snapped back. Diana slumped in her chair like she'd been shot in the heart.

The room was quiet for a moment before Superman spoke. "She got your point, Bruce. We all get it. Guess there's nothing we can do about this, huh?"

Bats shook his head. "I'm told by my lawyers that by their asking for a technical advisor we have two options. We can ignore the request or say no outright, but then we waive our right to dispute the theory of Shayera's magic crotch."

Shayera glared at Bats, but he ignored it as he continued, "Or we can say yes and request that they shoot according to the script we approve without changes and that we get an advance screening. Doing that, however, would mean we'd have to have someone on the set during production."

"Then we say no," GL spat out. "There's no way one of us should get stuck on a movie set for months while they - "

Shayera cut him off. "Lantern, we need to think about this," she said. Wally's eyes widened because he couldn't recall the last time he heard Shayera refer to GL as 'Lantern.'

"For you men this isn't a big deal," Shayera continued, "but Diana and I come off as sluts. I expect to have my reputation trashed. It's the price I pay for being Thanagarian and a symbol of the invasion. But it's not fair to the rest of you. If we have a chance to influence the way the tale of the invasion is told, we should take it. Otherwise the movie becomes our history and the truth gets buried."

"Are you volunteering to be a technical advisor on this movie?" J'onn asked. The Martian had been silent up to this point in the discussion.

"No!" Diana and John chorused.

Shayera's frown momentarily deepened, but softened as GL added, "And you need to stop that, Shayera. No one expects that you willingly submit to having your name trashed. Your reputation is just as important as anyone else's in this room."

"I'll do it," Wally grinned. Even he was surprised when six heads whipped around to look him and six sets of voices shouted as one, "You?"

"Sure," Wally shrugged. "I have some vacation days from work. I know a couple of people in Los Angeles I can spend time with. How hard can it be?"

(Now)

There was a slow, gentle and almost musical breeze blowing as the Green Lantern, with his arm in a cast, approached Hawkgirl. She stood with her back to him on top of the crater where the Justice League orbiting headquarters had just crashed to Earth destroying the Thanagarian wormhole generator.

She looked strange and vulnerable in the Earth clothing of jeans and tee-shirt she now wore. Her arms were folded across her chest as if to protect herself from a cold and now very hostile world. In the space of a few days, she'd gone from hero to spy to traitor to outcast. She was alone in her thoughts and now alone in this world.

"Don't you want to know what the vote was?" Green Lantern asked.

Hawkgirl didn't turn at the sound of his voice, instead continuing to stare straight ahead. "It doesn't matter. We all know that it's best that I leave," she answered.

"So where are you going to go?" Green Lantern asked as he rubbed the back of his neck with his one good hand.

Hawkgirl turned around to face him, but kept her arms folded. "I don't know," she said softly. "Some place where I won't be a distraction to the League."

Green Lantern cleared his throat. "I understand…but I…we wish you wouldn't go."

She gave him a very small and strained smile. "I'll never forget any of you, but we all know that if the League is to go on and do good work, it's best that I leave for now. But I promise I'll come back if I'm needed."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he said as he stepped toward her. There was sadness in his eyes.

She dropped her arms to her side as she answered, "You too." She stood there for a long moment staring at him, as if she wanted to hug him, but was held back by some unseen force. Then she leaped in the air and spun back to face the Green Lantern. In mid-air she rapidly spun around again and again like a top and then screamed, "Goddamnit. Somebody get me down before I throw up. This isn't funny!"

"Cut! Cut! Cut! What the hell happened?" the director yelled.

"She was supposed to turn right when Scott said his line," someone called out. "Instead she turned left and the glide wires got crossed."

As members of the special effects crew lowered her to the ground, Hawkgirl pointed at Green Lantern. "This is Scott's fault. He stepped into my light forcing me to turn right." She looked at the director. "Look at the damn video. This pig stepped into my turning spot."

"Pig?" the man she'd called Scott yelled back. "Dammit, Millie, you're the ham here. For God's sake, woman, when you say your line, leave! Don't stand there like you're waiting for me to say something. I have a news flash for you, you cow. I don't speak again until you leave. I have the closing line, not you. Stop chewing up my scenery."

"Cow?" Millie screamed back as she unfastened her wire harness. "You're a rank amateur and this script is rank and I do mean rank as in stink the place up." She turned to the director. "I'm done. Get my stunt double to do the rest of this shot. I'm in my trailer." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Millie stomped off the set followed quickly and quietly by her personal assistant, Karen.

The director lowered his head and exhaled loudly. "Get the doubles on the set," he called to someone behind the camera.

Wally was sitting in a chair behind the camera and grinning to himself. Those two actors, Millie Henoc and Scott Murphy, had more interpersonal stuff going on than John and Shayera ever did. They bickered and argued all day long about every scene they were in. Still, even he had to admit that there was something not quite right with this particular scene and the supposed conversation between John and Shayera, but both John and Shayera were adamant that this was what they wanted said, if anything had to be said, at all. Personally, Wally didn't believe for one moment that this scene was necessary, but it was in the approved Justice League script and his task had been to ensure the movie making team didn't deviate from that script without his clearance.

It was a typical Hollywood production, Wally thought. It was cast with beautiful women and handsome men and while Wally was happy with the really good looking actor who played him, he was certain GL would be less than pleased with the "pretty boy" who portrayed him. Scott Murphy looked younger, was taller and sounded less gruff than John. Yeah, there was no way John would be happy this casting choice. Wally, on the other hand, was sure that posters of Scott Murphy would adorn the bedrooms of teenaged girls across the globe after this film came out because he was that handsome.

"Flash, looks like we're finished shooting for the day." Wally looked up into the face of the director, Matt Hedges. "I'm going to send the crew home. We'll start again tomorrow. Looks like Millie has had enough." He shook his head as he said, "I just hope Norman shows up tomorrow."

"Norman?"

"Norman Reese, the special effects supervisor," Hedges answered. "He's the man who normally controls Millie's glide wires, flight scenes and the Green Lantern special effects. First time since I've known him that he's missed a day of work. He didn't call in or anything." Hedges paused and sighed. "The replacement the union sent just isn't used to working with Millie." He smiled and whispered to Wally, "Between you and me, I think Scott contributed to that scene being fouled up as much as Millie turning in the wrong direction."

Wally nodded not so much in agreement, but as an indication that he heard what Hedges had said. "What time do we start tomorrow?" he asked.

"Seven," Hedges answered. He gave Wally a sheet of blue paper. "Here's tomorrow's call sheet."

Wally glanced at the paper without actually reading it. He then folded it and said, "Right. See you tomorrow." With that, Wally raced out of the sound stage and headed back to Central City.

* * *

Shayera liked coming to Central City. She especially liked it when her schedule and Wally's allowed them to dine together away from the Watchtower cafeteria. Hal's Diner was one of those small corner mom & pop places where "mom" was the waitress and "pop" was the cook.

Shayera ordered the pot roast. Wally ordered his usual: half a dozen hamburgers, fries and three large strawberry milkshakes. Even after watching Wally wolf down this type of meal for years, she marveled at a metabolism that would allow him to consume such massive quantities without putting on a pound.

They'd both finished their meals and the waitress was clearing their table when Wally leaned back and said, "Mabel, tell Hal he outdid himself again. That was a great meal."

Shayera nodded in concurrence and Mabel smiled. "I'll tell him, Flash. You know, hearing that will make his day." She gathered up the dishes and Wally leaned forward toward Shayera. "Next time I open my mouth and volunteer for something like this, just hit me with the mace and kill me outright. It can't be more painful than this."

"I can do that."

"I can't believe I burned all my vacation days on this and it's not even close to being finished." He pushed a copy of _Variety_, the Hollywood trade newspaper, toward her. One of the story headlines read: _Personality Clashes Abound on the Justice League Set!_

Shayera frowned, but didn't read the articles. "I'm sorry it's not going well. You know, maybe we should have said no after all and taken our chances with the film."

Wally shook his head. "Nope, that first version of the script completely trashed us and made it look we wanted the invasion to succeed so we could build the binary fusion generator to destroy New Mexico or something."

Shayera shrugged. "I guess it's good we get the truth out there."

Wally leaned back. "Speaking of truth, they filmed yours and John's farewell to each other today."

Shayera's eyes narrowed as she leaned back and cleared her throat. "And?"

Wally smirked and leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. "Nothing. It was just as you and John agreed it was."

Shayera said nothing for a moment, then flashed a look of anger. "'Agreed it was?'"

Wally frowned, put his left hand up in the air signaling Shayera to hold and raised his right hand to place a finger to his ear. "Go ahead," he said. Shayera nodded, realizing that he was receiving a directed transmission from the Watchtower communications center. It was a call she wasn't receiving.

"Yeah," Wally said. "Put him through. Flash here. What? Where? Be right there." He removed his finger and exhaled sharply. He turned to Shayera. "I've got to go back to the studio."

He signaled Mabel, who quickly returned to their table. "Some dessert, honey?"

"Not right now, Mabel, but I'll be back for some of that homemade banana cream pie tomorrow." He stood and put two twenty dollar bills on the table. "Keep the change. My friend and I have to leave on an emergency." Mabel nodded.

"Leave?" Shayera didn't try to hide her confusion as she placed a ten dollar bill on the table. If there was an emergency, how come she didn't hear anything in her comm-link? "To go where? What happened?"

"We're going to Hollywood." Wally said. He placed his finger to his ear and said, "Watchtower, two to beam up." He turned to Shayera. "That call was from the studio. The Green Lantern just died in your arms."

Shayera's jaw dropped.

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	2. Chapter 2

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****CHAPTER TWO  
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The Watchtower transporters beamed Wally and Shayera directly to the soundstage at Wayne Entertainment. One of the first things Shayera noticed was how brightly lit the movie set was in comparison to the rest of the room. The second thing she noticed was all the activity around them. Policemen were interviewing people on the set. Other people were measuring and placing numbered cards on the floor. Shayera stood next to a chair marked "Millie," carefully trying to stay out of the way and hoping her wings didn't drop any down or feathers that would contaminate the crime scene.

Wally had gotten as close as they would permit him to the man bent over the form lying on the bed. She'd later learn from Wally that the bent over man was the medical examiner and the form on the bed was the body of an actor named Scott Murphy. She knew that Wally worked as a police scientist and just assumed he wanted to watch a peer at work.

After they brought in a stretcher to remove the body, Wally joined Shayera. He was clearly unhappy. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, then tapped Shayera on the shoulders. He walked over to a man who'd just finished speaking on a cell phone. Shayera followed.

"Mr. Hedges! How come I wasn't told about you guys filming tonight?" Wally said. His tone was terse.

Hedges seemed taken back at first and flashed a nervous smile. "Well, we had to make up the time we lost when Millie got tangled up in the wires. So we were reshooting the scene."

"Wires?" Shayera asked.

"Tell you later," Wally answered and then he turned his attention back to Hedges. "I want to see everything you shot tonight." Shayera couldn't recall hearing so much anger in Wally's voice before.

"Okay," Hedges answered meekly. "We'll have the film ready for you tomorrow."

"No!" Wally snapped. "You'll show me the video NOW!"

Hedges frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Wait here," he said as he moved to a box near one of the three cameras on the set.

"Think there's something wrong?" Shayera asked.

"Damn right there is," Wally muttered. He stood up straight and pointed toward a group of people near the lighted set. "See the woman in the bathrobe standing over there talking to the police?"

Shayera nodded. The red haired woman was wrapped in a short green robe. It was clear she'd been crying.

"That's Millie Henoc. She's playing you." Wally paused. "Look at her legs."

Shayera looked and shrugged. "Nice legs…what am I looking for?"

Wally's eyes narrowed. "She's bare-legged…and barefoot." He folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know what she's wearing under that robe," he continued. "But it's clearly not your suit. They may have been filming something here, but it wasn't the scene they busted today. This set is a bedroom and those aren't windows. They're viewports. This is supposed to be a bedroom on the Watchtower. The scene that got screwed up today was the scene where you left the League."

Hedges returned, smiling like a cat holding a mouse under its paw. "Sorry, but I can't help you, Flash." Shayera noticed that this wasn't the same nervous man who'd hurried away from them a few minutes ago. "We're shutting down production," Hedges said. "The police have confiscated all film and video so there's nothing for you to look at. In fact, there's no need to you to be here at all after today. If, and it's a big if, we ever resume production, we probably will do it without Justice League technical advice from this point on." Hedges turned to walk away.

"Looks like you win, don't you?" Shayera called out after Hedges. "The death of a lead actor on your set can't help but be a box office boon to you."

Hedges turned around and marched back to Shayera. Shayera spread her wings and raised her mace. Hedges stopped, keeping Wally between him and her. "You are either the most insensitive or stupidest person I've ever met," Hedges said. "And that's saying a lot considering this is Hollywood. In the space of 24 hours, I've lost my lead actor and my special effects supervisor, who got killed some time this morning when his car ran off the road and careened over a 100 foot embankment. And I don't have a complete film yet. I'd have to reshoot the entire movie with a new actor or rewrite the story to leave out unfilmed scenes and try to use existing footage. Not to mention I still have to do post-production special effects and editing with a new coordinator. I'm going to lose my ass on this." He looked at Shayera, then said to Flash, "I've decided – she's just plain stupid."

Shayera growled, exhaled sharply and tapped Wally on the shoulder. "We're out of here!"

"No!" Wally said staring at Hedges. "Not yet. I want to talk to Hawkgirl."

"Who?" Shayera snapped, clearly irritated.

"Her!" Wally pointed at Millie Henoc in the green robe, who had removed her red haired wig, revealing her brunette locks underneath.

"Not here, you won't!" Hedges snapped back. "Get off this lot. The movie is done. You guys aren't needed anymore."

Wally stepped back, turned to Shayera and said, "Let's go." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Wally zipped out of the sound stage. Shayera growled at Hedges and then spread her wings, being certain to smack Hedges in his face with them. She flew off leaving a stunned Hedges pulling feathers out of his mouth.

* * *

Millie Henoc had been home about forty-five minutes. The studio had provided a car and a driver to take her home. Her assistant had offered to stay with her for the night, but Millie had said no. She didn't want any female company tonight. Right now, more than ever, she wanted to drown in the arms of the men she knew well: Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jim Beam. She needed their company tonight because life was too hard right now to face without them.

She looked at the photograph on her fireplace mantelpiece, recalling the day it was taken. It was a photograph of her and Scott together at a horse race track. Scott had his arm around her shoulder and was laughing. She loved the sound of his laugh. She started sobbing at the thought and now made no attempt to hold back her tears.

She opened her liquor cabinet, took out a bottle with a red label and poured herself a drink in a tall glass. She looked at the glass, then at the bottle. She left the glass on top of the liquor cabinet, took the bottle and sat down on the only overstuffed chair she had in her front room. She took a drink from the bottle and cried.

About five minutes later, the doorbell rang. "Go away," Millie screamed at the door. The doorbell rang again.

Damn newspaper people. "I said go away!" she yelled rising from the chair. She took the filled glass off the liquor cabinet, setting her bottle down. She walked to the door, opened it and flung the contents of the glass at the hapless souls who stood there. "I said leave me the hell alone."

The contents of the glass missed the Flash, but caught Hawkgirl in the face.

It was a moment before Millie recognized who was standing in front of her, in the midst of the sea of faces and chorus of voices clambering for her attention.

"Sorry," Millie said slowly. There were flash bulbs going off and the flashing light hurt her eyes. "I thought you were one of those damn paparazzi. Come in and I'll get you a towel." She stepped aside and allowed the two to enter her home. She closed the door as more flash bulbs went off in her face.

She leaned against the closed door for a moment, looking at the Flash and the dripping wet Hawkgirl. She set the empty glass down on a table and walked past Hawkgirl muttering, "I'm really sorry." Millie went to her bathroom, snatched the larger of the two towels off the towel rack, returned, and offered it to Hawkgirl.

Hawkgirl took the towel and blotted her face, hair and the front of her costume with it, before handing it back to Millie. Millie took the towel, looked at it for a moment and then dropped it on the floor beside her feet. She walked over to her liquor cabinet, retrieved her bottle, took a swig and then turned to the Flash and said, "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me what happened tonight."

Millie sat down in her chair, took another swig from the bottle and snorted. "Scott died. That's what happened. The door is behind you - get out!"

"Not without better answers than that," Hawkgirl snapped. "What were you filming?"

Millie glanced up at Hawkgirl, her eyes narrowing into slits as she took another swallow from the bottle. She couldn't keep the quivering out of her voice as she pointed her finger at Hawkgirl and said, "Honey, I played you in the movie. I studied you for weeks. I became you and you don't have anything that scares me. So cut the damn attitude 'cause it ain't working here." She took another swallow of her drink, noticing the Flash glancing at her now half empty Scotch Whisky bottle and said, "Now get out!"

"That bottle won't help, you know," Flash said quietly.

"I don't think it will hurt either," Millie said looking at the bottle. "But I'll tell you what. I'll give you my verdict when I finish it off."

Hawkgirl continued to frown and growl, but made no noise that Millie was going to take seriously. Suddenly, Hawkgirl glanced down at the towel on the floor and became quiet. Her expression became one of sadness as she said softly, "Oh my stars, you and Scott Murphy were more than just co-workers, weren't you?"

Millie was taken aback for moment, but recovered long enough to say, "What Scott and I were doesn't matter now, does it? Get out! Both of you, before I call the police."

"Hedges said you guys were shooting the scene you busted this afternoon," the Flash said. "When I saw you talking to police, it didn't look like you were dressed the same. In fact, it didn't look like you were wearing anything under that robe, and the set was a bedroom, not the Watchtower crater. I haven't been in Hollywood as long as you, but even I know a bedroom love scene when I see it. You weren't shooting a makeup scene, you were shooting a make-out scene." He paused like he was smiling to himself about his little pun. "You want to tell us about it."

Hawkgirl looked at the Flash, then back to Millie. "You know, Miss Henoc, it's all going to come out sooner or later. The director got close-mouthed with us, but I think you really want to tell us what happened." She paused, then said softly, "I know I would. Don't you?"

Millie was silent for a long moment before answering. She took another drink from her bottle and lowered her head. "We were shooting a love scene."

"A sex scene, you mean," Hawkgirl said. Millie's head snapped up in time to see the Flash nudge Hawkgirl on the shoulder.

"No!" Millie said sharply. She stood. "We were shooting a love scene." Her voice trailed off. "A love scene…it would have been on the director's cut when it went to DVD release."

"So what happened?" the Flash asked softly.

Millie put the half empty bottle on top of her liquor cabinet. She picked up the towel she'd dropped on the floor earlier and held it close to her chest. If either the Flash or Hawkgirl noticed the monogrammed word 'His' on the towel, they didn't say anything.

Millie wet her lips. "We were on the set. Scott had just opened the bottle with his ring."

"With his ring?" Hawkgirl frowned.

Millie gently shook her head at Hawkgirl. "There was a special stopper in the bottle attached to a wire. On cue, they pull the wire and the stopper pops out of the bottle and flies off screen. They'd clean up the shot in post-production and digitally replace the stopper with a cork, erase the wire, add sound effects and make the champagne bubble over, you know, stuff like that. The only purpose of that stopper was to give Scott and me a visual reference in the shot. You know, so we'd be looking at same thing at the same time."

She paused. "We'd just toasted each other with champagne. Scott drank his drink and I set mine down. He was supposed to put his hand on my face to stroke it like the script said, instead he clutched at his throat and then he collapsed. He started having spasms. I yelled for help. Everyone ran on the set. Someone knocked over the table where the glasses were and the glasses broke. I was lucky I didn't cut my foot. Matt yelled for someone to get the glass and clean up the floor. The set medic started CPR, but my Scotty was dead before help arrived."

Hawkgirl looked at the Flash. "A heart attack?"

The Flash didn't answer, but Millie said, "I don't know. It's not fair. God, I'll never get the sound of that death rattle out of my head." Millie sniffled, trying to prevent herself from crying.

"Did you drink the champagne?"

Millie shook her head. "No. There was a mutual toast, but my drinking was deleted in a rewrite." She paused and her eyes narrowed. She put the cap back on the bottle, put the bottle on top of the liquor cabinet and then looked the Flash in the eyes. "Was it something in the champagne? Do you think he was poisoned?"

"Do we?" Hawkgirl whispered to the Flash.

"We need to wait for the autopsy report," the Flash answered. "It could be natural causes." There was something in the way the Flash said 'natural causes' that made Millie think that he didn't think the cause was natural at all.

The room was silent again. Millie tried to manage her breathing in what was becoming a vain attempt to fight off tears. Finally, the Flash broke the silence. "Had you guys been shooting others scenes before you shot the one tonight?"

Millie chuckled. "Hate to be the one to break the joke to you, but yeah, every night for the last four weeks. Scott and Jonas would wait for you to leave the set before they'd hand out that night's shooting script."

"Jonas?"

"He is, or was, Scott's assistant," Millie answered, suddenly realizing that she _did_ hate telling the Flash that Scott laughed every night after Flash left the set, reminding everyone how much better the film was going to be or how much more money they'd all make in the director's cut version without the Justice League oversight. "I really _am_ sorry, but I doubt that you ever saw the full script. I think you only saw what Matt and Scotty wanted you to see."

Flash's expression ranged from quizzical to angry to calm in the space of five seconds. He shrugged. "I don't recall meeting him," he said flatly.

"You've seen him on the set. He was the guy always handing Scott a drink of cola before we'd start shooting. He was Scott's errand boy. Always had his nose stuck so far up Scott's butt that…." She didn't finish the sentence.

Flash stared at her in silence. Millie glanced back and forth between the Flash and the capped bottle of whisky. Finally, Hawkgirl said, "We'll be in touch," and she tapped the Flash gently on the arm. They both walked toward the door.

"Look," Millie said walking to the door, her voice trembling. "I don't know how you superhero types get paid, but I'll double it. Triple it. Just tell me you'll find out what happened to Scotty. Please." Her voice broke.

Flash nodded. "Reporters are still outside." He put his finger to his ear and said, "Watchtower, two to beam up." Within seconds, both Hawkgirl and the Flash disappeared in front of her.

Millie started crying again; murmuring the word, "Please" over and over again. She collapsed in the overstuffed chair and sobbed uncontrollably.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
****CHAPTER THREE  
****xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Shayera had learned a long time ago that more decisions are made in the cafeteria than are made in the conference room. She stared across the table at Wally as he munched his burger. He was angry and hurt and she only hoped that he wouldn't decide to do something stupid that he would regret later.

"Well," Wally said. He sighed. "Go ahead and say it. I got played by those people."

Shayera nodded. "Don't beat yourself up, too much. You assumed they'd be honest. From what I've read, the Hollywood types are always dishonest."

His frown deepened. "If you're trying to make me feel better, you're going about it all wrong. First of all, those people lied to me. Secondly, there was a murder committed and I feel responsible. I failed and I don't like failing."

"Well, at least they didn't throw whisky in your face," she answered. When they'd returned to the Watchtower, she'd showered and changed clothing before meeting Wally for a meal. She wasn't hungry, but knew he would be. Her eyes widened as she realized what Wally had just said. "Murder? What makes you think it was murder?"

"I solve murders and other crimes for a living every day, remember? I can't give you any specifics, but I just feel it in my bones."

Shayera frowned. _Human intuition again._ She remained amazed how much faith the humans put into what they called intuition. "Your bones tell you who did it?"

"Not yet, but I know enough to know that I'm going to need a little help with this."

Before Shayera could offer her assistance, Wally added, "From a Bat."

* * *

_"Millie, please! Those guys will kill me if you don't go through with this."_

_"Scott, do you know what you're asking me to do? I love you, but you're asking too much. I can't be your whore to pay off your debts."_

_"Millie, baby, if you don't do this, you've signed my death warrant. These guys will kill me tomorrow night if you don't do this. Honey, I love you and I wouldn't ask you to do this if there was some other way."_

_"There has to be another way, Scott, besides my being a part of that disgusting film."_

_"Please honey, you've got to do it because…because I told them you would. I don't want to die and if you don't do it, they'll probably come after you too because you know that was the deal."_

_"After me? I don't know these people."_

_"But they don't know that I didn't tell you who they are, do they? After they kill me, I'm sure they'll come after you to make sure there are no loose ends."_

_"No loose ends? What the hell have you done? What are you getting me involved with? Scott, I hate you, you son of a .… "_

"Bitch!" Millie shouted into the darkness as she awoke with a start. She reached over to her night stand and turned on a light. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look at the empty side of her bed.

She closed her eyes again, fighting back tears. Leaving the light on, she struggled to get back to sleep.

* * *

Whenever you wanted to find Batman on the Watchtower, the best place to start was always the computer room. If he was on the station, more than likely Bats was sitting behind a massive computer console, probably solving the mysteries of the universe or playing FreeCell. The point was that what he was doing wasn't as important as the fact that this was where you found Bats when you needed him.

Wally found himself pacing back and forth, explaining the evening's events to Batman. He felt like a little kid coming to Daddy to ask for help with his homework.

"I think I might be in over my head." His shoulders sagged and he gave a long sigh. "I could really use a little help."

Batman had stopped working on the computer while he listened to Wally's sad tale of woe, but he never turned around to face him.

Bats resumed typing as he said, "I think I know someone who might be able to help you."

* * *

Sonia Alcania never liked visiting the police station. It brought back old memories. She'd been a detective with the Gotham police department, but resigned at the urging of Commissioner Gordon because of her involvement with the Batwoman case. She smiled to herself. She wasn't just involved; she had been Batwoman – actually one of the three "Batwomen" who brought down Rupert Thorne, Carlton Duquesne and the Penguin. And as Commissioner Gordon had said, he didn't mind working with a vigilante, but he didn't want one on the payroll.

She'd moved to Los Angeles where capes weren't the prevailing fashion, as she'd told Batman the day she left. She was surprised when she was offered a job at Wayne Entertainment to do studio security while she worked on getting her private investigator credentials. She figured the "hook-up" with Wayne Entertainment came, perhaps, as a result of Commissioner Gordon interceding directly with Mr. Wayne on her behalf since they were acquaintances. She never followed up because she also wanted to think that Commissioner Gordon still thought well of her and she knew she would be devastated if it turned out to be just happenstance.

Sonia liked Los Angeles. There was something wonderful about the sunshine on your face 300 days a year. She'd just left the Police Administration Building in downtown Los Angeles when a red blur stopped in front of her. She brushed her short brown hair off her face and frowned. It was the Flash. Her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. She put her hands in the pockets of her jacket and stood next to him silently.

"Pardon me," the Flash said. "Are you Sonia Alcania?" There was a slight twinkle in his eyes when he spoke that made her smile.

"I'd normally answer with a 'who wants to know,' but all of you capes and tights types are famous." She paused. "I'm Sonia Alcania. What can I do for you?"

"Batman suggested I look you up. I may need your help."

Her heartbeat quickened at the mention of Batman's name. If the Flash noticed, he didn't say anything. "Batman said I could help you?" she asked.

Flash's smiled. "He told me you worked security for Wayne Entertainment and that you were very good. Is there a place we can talk?"

_Very good?_ She flashed a small smile. Batman wasn't known to be free with compliments. "There's a sandwich shop across the street," she said.

Sonia took another sip of her coffee, then put her cup down on the table. She and the Flash had taken a booth in the diner and ordered. She'd ordered a cup of coffee. The Flash had ordered a small coffee with thirty-seven sugars, two hamburgers, fries, and a milkshake.

"I understand you're in charge of security for Wayne Entertainment," he said before shoving a couple of fries in his mouth.

Sonia shook her head, rolling her eyes at the sight of this man who seemed to have a bottomless pit for a stomach. Then a wisp of a smile crossed her face. "I'm not in charge," she said. "Occasionally, I do some private investigative work for Wayne Entertainment Studios." She frowned. "Sadly, in fact, enough work to have an office on the studio lot." She paused. "Let me guess. You're here because of the death of Scott Murphy on the Justice League movie set, right?"

Flash stared at her for moment, arched an eyebrow and said, "How'd you know?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out. After all, I did make detective with the Gotham City police department." She paused. "And I got a phone call this morning from the company lawyers saying to expect you and cooperate as much as possible." She smiled.

Flash stared blankly and then smiled as if he finally got her little joke. "And are you?"

"Am I what?" The smile fell off Sonia's face.

Flash grinned. "Going to cooperate as much as possible?"

Sonia took another sip of her coffee. "I promise I'll give you plenty of warning when I'm about to stop cooperating."

The Flash finished off his milkshake. His expression became stern. "Fair enough," he said. "I need to see a copy of the autopsy as soon as you can get it for me."

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"I don't think he died from natural causes, but only the medical examiner's going to know for sure. Can you also dig up the real bio on Scott Murphy? I don't mean the fake Hollywood one, but his real one."

"I'll see what I can do."

"And would you see if you can find out if he was dating Millie Henoc? There was something going on between those two and I wanna know what it is. And see what you find out about Murphy's assistant, someone named Jonas."

Sonia took another sip of her coffee and set the cup down in its saucer with a loud clink. She stood up and frowned. "Yes, master," she said flatly. "Is there anything else this poor servant girl needs to get you to make you happy, master? Would you like all this info in the next fifteen seconds or can I have a whole minute to get it for you?"

Flash looked at her in silence and then lowered his head slightly. "Okay. I guess I deserve that. I'm sorry. These people played me for a fool and I don't like that."

Sonia sat back down at the table and nodded. "For the record, Flash," she said as she signaled the waitress for a refill, "everyone gets played for a fool in Hollywood. The trick out here is not to let it happen more than three or four times a year." She smiled. So did the Flash.

* * *

"Here," Lieutenant Julian said as he handed a sealed envelope over to Sonia.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Sonia answered as she took the envelope. After she'd spoken to the Flash hours earlier, Sonia made a couple of phone calls starting with Lieutenant Julian of Homicide. She was surprised that the Lieutenant had agreed to help her without much argument or discussion. In many ways, he reminded her of Sergeant Bullock of Gotham P.D. except his voice didn't grate on her nerves the way Bullock's did. Lieutenant Julian was an older, heavyset man in his late fifties, maybe even his early sixties. Whereas Bullock was just a sloppy mess, Julian wore tailored suits and chomped on an unlit cigar. Come to think about it, she'd never seen him with a lit cigar, just an unlit one. Freud would probably have had a field day with Julian, she thought.

"Appreciate the assist," she continued.

"I'm only sharing because the Hollywood studios don't cooperate real well without some pushing. You might be able to help me push a little harder." Julian took the cigar out of his mouth and grunted. "You know, I scratch your back, you scratch mine."

"So the fact that I helped you solve that case involving the murder of that lawyer in the Brent Building last year didn't help, huh?" Sonia stood a little straighter looking Julian in the eyes.

Julian gave a slight smile, but didn't break eye contact. "It didn't hurt. And the fact that you didn't claim credit for it in the press…." He didn't finish the sentence as he put his cigar back in his mouth.

Sonia returned his smile. "I don't need the publicity, but a good police force always does."

"That's what I like about you, Alcania." Julian studied her for a long moment and then shook his head. "Why are you wasting your life as an overpaid studio investigator? With a couple of phone calls, I can get you a seat in the next police academy class and you can be a real cop again."

"Thanks, but no." She paused as the smile fell from her face. Julian had talked to her more than once about joining the L.A. Police Department. She was sure he knew that she'd resigned from Gotham PD. She wasn't sure that he knew that she either had to resign or Commissioner Gordon was going to fire her. "I like not having the fate of the world in my hands."

Julian nodded and stood. He leaned forward on his desk. "Look, if you come up with anything –"

She nodded and turned to leave. "I got your phone number, Lieutenant. I won't forget it."

Before she reached the door, Julian called out, "Alcania!" She turned around to see him seated behind his desk again, looking at the papers in his left hand and holding his cigar in his right. Without looking up he said, "Make sure that you don't."

* * *

Wally had the Watchtower materialize him outside of Sonia Alcania's office on the Wayne Entertainment movie lot. They'd agreed to meet at her office the next day after their initial meeting. Her office was one of several in a very large modular office trailer. There was a small plastic sign attached to the fake wood door that read:

_Sonia Alcania_

_W. E. Studio Security_

He knocked on the faux wood door.

"Come in."

Wally entered. The office was small and somewhat dark. She was behind a desk that was too big for her office and seemed to make her appear even smaller in stature than she actually was. There was a large Styrofoam cup of coffee in the center of her desk next to a half-eaten sandwich.

"Right on time." She shuffled folders on her desk, found what she was looking for and handed him a folder containing papers. "Here. Still working on Murphy's real bio."

Wally opened the folder and recognized its contents. It was a preliminary autopsy report.

"You were right," she said. "There hadn't been time to do a complete toxicology report, but the initial indication was that he was poisoned. The police are calling it a homicide." She gestured for Wally to take a seat in the small straight back chair in front of her desk, but he didn't.

Wally set the report aside on her desk for a moment and looked at Sonia. "Any idea how it was ingested?"

"He drank it," she said. "Was probably dead within 10 to 15 seconds after drinking the stuff, so it had to be something he drank on the set." Wally frowned.

She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. "Here," Sonia said as she offered Wally the phone. "This is one of the studio cell phones. Take it so I can reach you if something turns up."

Wally took the phone from her and set it back on her desk. "No cell phones. Got a pen and paper?"

She pulled a pencil from her desk drawer and handed Wally a sheet of paper. He wrote on it and handed the pencil and paper back to her. "When you need me, call this number. It's the phone number to the Metrotower. Give them your name and tell them to patch you over to me."

She nodded, folded the paper, opened her bottom desk drawer, pulled out her handbag and placed the folded paper inside. She removed a business card from her bag, wrote on the back of it and gave it to Wally. "So you can reach me…day or night." She closed the bottom drawer.

"Thanks," Wally said, taking the card. She picked up her sandwich and started to bite it, looked at Wally and said, "Would you like for Mr. Wayne to buy you lunch?" She put her sandwich down.

"Huh?"

"I can call the commissary and have them bring you over a sandwich and some coffee," she said. "I'll put it on my expense account and let Mr. Wayne pay for it. Takes about fifteen minutes after I place the call."

Wally flashed a grin, but shook his head. "I don't think putting my huge appetite on your bill is fair to Mr. Wayne, but I do appreciate the offer."

"Suit yourself," Sonia shrugged as she bit into her sandwich. "But I got to tell you, the commissary makes a killer pastrami and rye."

"I'm sure they do," Wally answered. He paused half a second. "Are they sure the poison was in the champagne?"

The smile disappeared off Sonia's face as she set her sandwich down. She sipped her coffee and said, "Don't know. The police still haven't found the champagne bottle or glasses from the set. Seems they disappeared. But there was enough poison in his system to kill an elephant." She paused. "You know, if it _was_ in the champagne, Millie Henoc is lucky she didn't drink it or we'd have two bodies."

Wally steepled his fingers and brought his hands to his lips. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Real lucky…if you believe in luck." He exhaled loudly. "Any luck with the name Jonas?"

"Oops, sorry about that…almost forgot." She handed Wally a business card. "His name is Jonas Morant. He lives in Malibu and was Scott Murphy's assistant."

"The one always handing Murphy a drink of cola," Wally said, recalling Millie Henoc's comment.

"Huh?"

Wally looked at the card again. "I think I'm going to pay Mr. Morant a visit and see what beverage he's serving now."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
****CHAPTER FOUR  
****xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

When Sonia said Jonas Morant lived in Malibu, Wally had pictured a mansion on beach front property. Well, at least he got the beach front part right. Jonas Morant lived in a Winnebago parked in a recreation park about 100 yards from the ocean.

Wally knocked on the door of the vehicle and Morant answered. As soon as he saw him, Wally recognized him from the movie set. Morant had long thin blond hair that hid his eyes most of the time. His green tee-shirt reeked of alcohol and perspiration. When he came to the door, he had a phone in his hand and it was clear to Wally that he had interrupted a phone conversation.

He looked at Wally and hissed, "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you about Scott Murphy. Can I come in?" Wally took a step forward.

"No, you can't come in!" Morant snapped. "And I don't want to talk about him. I told the police I wasn't on the set when he died and I don't know anything about it. Now go away!"

He started to close the door, but Wally zipped past him and stood in what was the living room area behind the driver's seat. After all, what was the use of having super speed if he don't use it?

Jonas frowned into his phone. "I'll call you back," he said to whoever was on the line. "I have an unwanted visitor. Just remember, if a guy's playing a hand, I let him play it. I'm no kibitzer, but I'm also not a fool. Remember that." He hung up the phone and looked at Wally. "Get out before I call the police."

Wally looked around the interior of the RV. It was plush, obviously very expensive and oddly decorated with lots of pictures of the same guy. The man in the pictures was an old Hollywood actor of the '40s whose name Wally couldn't quite recall. Wally wondered to himself if being an assistant to a second tier actor like Scott Murphy paid so well that Morant could afford a vehicle that clearly cost more than $200,000.

"This is a very nice ride," Wally said.

"Yeah, I think so too," Morant snapped. "But I don't own it and I'm probably going to get kicked out of it in a couple of days. Now get out!"

"Just one question, then I'll leave," Wally said. "How come you weren't on the set when Scott Murphy died? According to Millie Henoc, you were Murphy's errand boy. Shouldn't you have been there in case he needed something after the scene was over?"

Morant's eyes narrowed into slits. "Errand boy? Look, I told the police that I wasn't on the set because Scott and I had an argument over the script and I didn't want to be on the set when they shot that piece of trash."

"What did you argue about?"

Morant took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as if trying to release his anger. "That night's script. I mean that whole scene was unnecessary. It should have been a love scene between Wonder Woman and Superman, but Scott insisted it be about Hawkgirl and Green Lantern, like we hadn't already done a million of those shots. He was just trying to screw with Millie's head." He paused and flashed his eyes skyward. "And screw the rest of her too."

"I don't get it. Why do you care what's in the script?"

"Because it's my movie script," Jonas said plopping himself in a leather recliner. "My name's not on it, but it's my script."

"You wrote it?"

"Yeah," Morant sighed. "The whole damn thing. But I couldn't get anybody to buy it from a nobody like me. Then I meet Scott Murphy and he tells me he can find me a buyer. Then he comes back a week later and says somebody named Randall Scott had already sold a script similar to mine to a company called Squared M Productions and they had already started pre-production. He tells me that if I sign a release, he'll act as my agent and talk to the company and get me story contributor credit on the film, if I pitch a couple of lines to the final shooting script. It's practically my script and I'm fighting for a story contributor status….a goddamn story contributor.

"Then he tells me he'll fight to make me an executive producer. Later he tells me the production company won't go with me as a producer or as a story contributor, but they offered him a part in the movie if he'd help put together the funding package. Murphy says he'll get them to put me on the payroll somehow and get me a percentage of the net profits." Morant looked up from the recliner with one of the saddest looks Wally could ever recall seeing. "It's my film and I end up settling for $1,000 dollars a week from the production company to work as the assistant to 'Mr. Murphy.'" He frowned and mumbled, "A damn assistant."

Wally was quiet for a moment before softly asking, "Did you kill him?"

"Kill him?" Jonas literally jumped out of the chair. "I thought he had a heart attack."

"The police are calling it a homicide now. Murphy was poisoned. If the police haven't been back to talk to you yet, they will."

Jonas lowered his head. "They don't think I killed him, do they? Dude, I admit I didn't like him, but he said he'd help me sue the company after the film was released to get a percentage of net profit. He was my friend and he was going to be my big payday when the film was released."

"Payday?" Wally snorted. "How do you figure that since even I know there's no such thing as a net profit for a Hollywood film? You weren't going to see a dime."

"That's probably what he and the production company thought," Morant grinned. "But I've already got me a lawyer and he says different. We were going to wait until that film was released and then I was going to challenge the release I signed and sue for theft. I can prove what I wrote – and the final film would have been so close to what I wrote, it would have been clear to a blind man that it was stolen. Now with Murphy dead, production might be cancelled and I've possibly lost what chance I had for a big one." He let out a deep sigh and glanced at one of the photos on the wall. "Just like Harry Jones."

"Harry Jones?" Wally didn't try to hide his confusion.

"Jones was a character Elisha Cook played in the movie, '_The Big Sleep_.'"

So, that was the man in those photos that occupied so much wall space in this RV. It was Elisha Cook, Jr. Wally knew he'd seen the actor's face before, but he just couldn't place it. He made a sweeping motion at the wall in front of Morant. "You're a fan of Cook, I see."

Jonas smiled a genuine smile. "One of his biggest." He paused. "See that," he said as he pointed to a manual typewriter that was centered on the table near the vehicle entrance. "That typewriter was used in the movie, _Stranger on the Third Floor_. The reporter in the film used that typewriter to write the story that falsely sent Cook's character to jail." Morant shook his head. "Cook was a good actor, but his characters were always double-crossed in his movies by the real villain. In '_The Big Sleep'_, his character was killed trying to score a big payday for his girlfriend."

Wally paused, nodded slowly. He flashed a glance at an autographed photo of Cook in a Hawaiian shirt standing on a beach. He smiled at the photo and then back at Morant. "Tell me what happened that night."

"After that night's script revisions were distributed, I followed Scott on to the set. He said he was thirsty and told me to get him a cola while they were positioning the lights. I went back to his trailer, and brought him back his drink like he asked. Then he yells at me, like a man scolding a dog for peeing on the carpet, in front of the whole crew because I didn't bring the bottle of champagne to the set he'd especially bought for the scene. I told him I'd already given it to the Director so they could set it up for the special effects shot. He didn't want to hear it. Told everyone that he only kept me on because he felt sorry for me, but he was going to fire me if I screwed up again. I stayed to watch the effects guy hand the bottle to Scott." He paused before adding, "Then I left the set. I was back in the trailer only for a couple of minutes when I got a call from Matt Hedges saying Scott had taken ill. I rush back on the soundstage and saw some medic on the set administering CPR."

Wally looked at Morant, then back to the Cook photo and then headed for the door. "One last thing before I go. What did you mean when you said Scott was trying to screw with Millie's head?"

Morant laughed a nasal, mocking laugh. "You should ask Millie how Scott got the money to get this movie started. If anyone had a reason to kill Scott, she did."

* * *

As he watched the Flash zip away from his RV, Jonas hit the redial button on his phone.

"Don't say a word," he said. "Just listen. The Flash just left here. He asked a lot of questions, but I didn't give him a lot of answers. You need to come up with $500,000 by Friday. Is that clear? I get $500,000 by Friday or your Saturday is going to be real uncomfortable."

He hung up the phone. Yes, they all thought they were so damn smart when they stole his screenplay. Well, he'd show them. They were going to pay, just like Scott Murphy ultimately paid. They all were going to pay big time.

* * *

Wally liked running. It allowed him to think and put things in perspective and right now that's what he needed to do. He ran back to Sonia's studio office from Malibu, a distance of about 20 miles, by way of Seattle, Washington. The additional fifteen minutes and round-trip twenty-two hundred miles helped him clear his head.

"You mean Scott Murphy wrote his own death scene? How bizarre is that?" Sonia exclaimed after Wally told her of his talk with Jonas Morant.

"Very!" Wally answered as he sat down in front of Sonia. "Is it possible that he poisoned himself with the intention of also killing Millie Henoc?" he wondered out loud.

Sonia shrugged. "Sure, it's possible, but only if it was in the script for her to drink with him." She paused. "Was it?"

Wally was quiet, reflecting on something Millie Henoc said. He looked at Sonia. "Not according to Henoc. Can we get a copy of the shooting script for that scene? In fact, can we get a copy of the entire script, including the scenes I didn't know they were shooting?" He frowned as Sonia nodded. "Different question. Can you tell me something? How do you go about getting a movie financed?"

"With a lot of blood, sweat and tears." Sonia smiled to herself. "Lots of tears."

_Hollywood humor._ Wally frowned. "Okay. Is that how this movie got started?"

Sonia must have sensed the seriousness of Wally's question because she cleared her throat, opened another folder on her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. She glanced at the top sheet of papers. "I don't have dollar amounts here on this stat sheet, but the official answer is that this film was financed by a German film venture company called the Landers Group. They bought the film's copyright and the movie script which was written by a Randall Scott from a company called Squared M Productions headed by Matt Hedges, the film's director. Squared M then re-purchased the film for less money in lease and option payments. The difference was profit and used to pay salaries and lease Wayne Entertainment studio facilities."

Wally didn't try to hide his puzzlement. "Wait a minute…how much money are we talking about here? Millions? Because while I'm new to Hollywood, even I'm not stupid enough to believe you'd pay more than one million dollars for a script and I'm sure you can't finance a movie just from the sale of the script."

Sonia shook her head. "You can't. You might convince your acting talent to take a percentage of profit as payment, but you'd still have to pay your production staff and studio up front. There are no dollar figures on this stat sheet for this particular screenplay, but the average Hollywood script goes for about $200,000."

She leaned back in her chair. "So the question is, how did Squared M come up with the rest of the money to finance this multi-million dollar movie?"

Wally stood up and walked to the door. "I think I know someone who can answer that question."

* * *

Wally raced back to Millie Henoc's home. The scene was much different than it had been a couple of days ago. There were no press or newspaper people camped outside her door or reporters shouting questions when he arrived. He knocked on her door.

Henoc answered the door. She looked horrible. Her eyes were red and showed the signs of constant crying. Her brown hair was in a bun and she wore dark framed eyeglasses. She held an empty glass in her hand, pressed against the sun dress she wore.

"Yes?" She had a flat, glazed look.

Wally wasn't sure she recognized him. He glanced down at the glass in her hand and then back to her. "So what was the verdict?" he asked.

"Verdict?"

"Did getting drunk help?"

Henoc stared at Wally for a second and then as if a light came on in her head, she looked at her glass. "I'm still forming an opinion," she said. She turned around and walked back into house. Wally followed, closing the door behind him. She walked to a table, grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor and filled her glass half way up.

"I wanted to talk to you before you left for the memorial service this evening," he said, now secretly wondering if she was going to go. "I was told that you could tell me how this film got its financing."

She set her glass down without drinking from it and narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that Scott wrote the film and the production company gave him a role in the film as part of his compensation package."

This news took Wally by surprise. "Wait a minute. You're saying Murphy wrote the film? I thought it was written by someone named Randall Scott."

Henoc laughed. "No one in Hollywood works under their real name. Scott Murphy was his stage name. His real name was Randall Scott. He told me he wrote the film under his real name and sold it to Matt Hedges."

Wally wondered if Jonas Morant knew that Randall Scott and Scott Murphy were the same person and that Murphy had, in fact, stolen his script. He decided not to ask that question to Henoc. "Then why would Jonas Morant tell me to ask you about how the film got its financing?"

Henoc sat down, took her eyeglasses off, rubbed the bridge of her nose, then put her glasses back on, looked up at Wally and said softly, "Because he's an ass and Scott didn't call me a worthless bag of crap in front of the cast and crew on the day he died." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Scott came to me about ten months ago and told me that he had a project, this film, that he wanted to do, but the producer was having problems getting funding. He told me he had found someone who would be a lender, but the lender had some foreign films that they wanted to dub in English and they needed an American actress to do some voice work. The American proceeds from that film would help finance this film."

Wally noticed tears welling up in her eyes as she continued. "He begged me to do it. And like a woman in love, I stupidly agreed to the voice work for a role in his movie and a percentage of the gross. Afterwards, I found out the voice work was for a series of animated films." She stood and her voice cracked as she said, "Pornographic animated cartoons."

She lowered her head. "The cartoons were disgusting. The women were always tied up or chained and…and used by two or three men or women at a time when they weren't gagged. It didn't take much talent to do those nine, thirty minute films." She put her forearm to her mouth, turned as to not look at Wally and then muffled a prolonged loud groan, followed by a series of short moans and gasps, then a long guttural groan and then a squeal.

For a split second Wally was embarrassed that he felt a slight pang of arousal from her erotic noises. She flashed a smile. Wally cleared his throat. "I didn't know you could finance a film doing voice acting?"

"You can't, but because I did the work, Scott's lender financed the movie. I also gave Scott the money from my work," she said, "and just wanted to put it behind me. Then when we started shooting the love scenes in this movie, Scott kept asking me to use the voice I used in the voice over work. It made me sick and he knew it."

"The more I discover about Scott Murphy, the more he comes across to me as a less than likeable fellow," Wally said more to himself than to Henoc.

"He was," she said flatly. "And worse."

Wally was silent for a moment. "Did you kill him?"

"No," she said softly. "I thought about it, but I didn't."

"You admit you did think about it."

A small smile crept across her face. "You know of any woman who hasn't thought about killing her husband, at least once?"

_Stop the bus!_ "Husband?" Wally exclaimed not attempting to keep the surprise out of his voice.

The smile disappeared as she said, "We'd kept it quiet, but we were married in Sacramento …a couple of days before Scott...died."

Wally shook his head. "I don't get it. You guys argued something fierce on the set that day."

Henoc laughed and reached for her glass. "You just don't know actors. The arguments during those scenes were professional, but that night… it was to be personal. That was going to be our 'wedding night' and we were going to make it part of the film."

She took a drink from her glass, set the glass back on the table and picked up a letter from the table and handed it to Wally. He opened the envelope, and scanned the letter inside.

"Now I get a letter from the production company," she continued, "saying that film production is suspended indefinitely while the company considers its options. In other words, I'm fired."

Wally noted that the letter was signed: Matthew Hedges, Managing Partner, Squared M Productions.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
****CHAPTER FIVE  
****xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Wally didn't go to the funeral. First, he thought it would look out of place, and secondly, the more he was in Hollywood, the less he liked the place. Besides, there had been a crime alert in Central City as one of his oldest foes, the Fiddler, decided to come out of retirement.

It didn't take Wally long, just half a day, to find and help the Fiddler return to retirement, this time in the city jail. As he handed the Fiddler over to the police, he realized that he was late for his shift at the Metrotower. At least he was relieving Shayera, who wouldn't make a comment about the fastest man alive being late…that is, until she was properly relieved. Then she'd give him hell.

"They were married, huh?" Shayera said after Wally updated her on the status of the case.

"I did everything I could to keep my jaw from hitting the floor," Wally said as he hit the i_enter_ /ikey on the computerized logbook. The duty watch was now his.

Shayera shrugged as she gathered her personal belongings, preparing to leave the command deck. "Now that I think about it, she did appear to be more of a grieving widow than an inconvenienced actress when we saw her the other night." She paused. "So where do you go from here?"

It was Wally's turn to shrug because he really didn't have an answer. He sighed. "I don't know. People kill out of love and hate. Scott Murphy had people who hated him and people who loved him enough to sacrifice their dignity for him."

"You forgot greed," Shayera said, "Sometimes you humans kill out of greed."

Wally frowned. Sometimes Shayera seemed to forget that killing their own kind was not solely a trait restricted to humans. Thanagarians, including Shayera, had been known to kill whenever it suited their personal purposes as well. "I didn't forget it," he said. "It's just that everyone lost out when Murphy died."

Shayera walked to the door, then turned around and looked back at Wally. "Dumb question, but don't the production companies have insurance on the actors?"

Wally grinned. "Yes. Yes, they do."

* * *

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hedges," Sonia said. "But as you know, Wayne Entertainment Studios is cooperating with the police regarding the death of Mr. Murphy and there are a couple of questions we need your help with in order to assist the police."

Forty-five minutes after she'd gotten the Flash's phone call, Sonia located Hedges in his office trailer on the studio lot. There were papers scattered everywhere in his office as if he'd been searching the place with a rake. Hedges stood next to a five drawer file cabinet. The middle drawer was opened and he looked really unhappy that he had to stop and talk to Sonia.

"Make it quick!" he snapped. "I have an appointment to get my passport photo shot in 30 minutes."

"Going somewhere?"

His eyes narrowed as Hedges said, "The film business doesn't stop because some two bit actor dies. I have to scout some European locations for my next film. What's your question?"

Sonia nodded her head. "I was looking over the production finance sheets and I see that you are the managing partner in Squared M Productions. If you don't mind my asking, why are you shutting down?"

Hedges paused. "I don't understand what you mean?"

Sonia gave him her best disarming smile. "Well, I understand you sent out letters cancelling – no, 'suspending' was the word you used. Anyway, you stopped production on the film. The finance sheet says that Murphy was insured. So why aren't you using that money to finish the film? That is, if Murphy was, in fact, insured."

Hedges exhaled loudly. "Murphy was insured for this film, but that insurance won't cover the entire production cost. And we've shot too much of the film to get someone else. That's not counting that we haven't even started the special effects shots yet. No, we will have to eat this."

Sonia's grin flattened. "Who's the 'we'?"

"Huh?"

"You said _we_ will have to eat this. Who else is in Squared M Productions beside you?" Sonia put her hands in her jacket pockets while Hedges' face ran a gamut of emotions.

"I can't believe you. I'm ruined and will probably never get another job in this town again and you want to correct my grammar. Tell me, do you know anyone who will hire a second tier director like me who lost one of his lead actors, had to shut down production because he ran over his budget because he was shooting additional scenes that weren't in the approved script, still owes the studio lot rental fees for another 45 days and expects to be sued by everybody and their uncle for default? If you got a name, please give it to me, otherwise shut up and get the hell out of my office." He pointed to the door.

Sonia turned to leave, then smiled to herself as she thought that what she was about to say next would make Detective Bullock of Gotham P.D. proud. She turned back to face Hedges and said softly, "I'll leave, but I'm going to suggest to the police that they subpoena your personal and corporate financial records. It's up to you. You can tell me the principals of Squared M or I'll find out from the police. One of us will keep it out of the newspapers." She opened the door and looked back at Hedges. "Guess which one of us it will be?"

"Hold on a minute." Hedges looked like someone had kicked him in the shins. He sighed loudly. "Murphy... Scott Murphy was the other partner." He lowered his head before adding, "He was a limited partner."

* * *

"He's a total babe…like the entire track team at once." Those words had haunted Linda Park ever since she uttered them on air. After she said it, that jerk at the station, Bill Mason, would ask her almost daily in the cafeteria, loud enough to be overheard by others, "So Linda, what's it like with the whole track team…you know…all at once?"

At first, Linda tried to ignore the question and the laughter that followed. But after the fourth day, she'd had enough. The fifth time Mason asked the question, she waited for the laughter to subside before she answered, "I would imagine it's the same as being the prom queen for the entire football team, something I'm told you have a lot of personal experience being. So you tell me, how was it, Bill?" After that Mason never said another word to Linda, except when he was professionally required to, during the remaining time he was employed at Channel 4.

She was surprised when the Flash made an unsolicited offer to tape a promo for the reopening of the Flash museum. Naturally she agreed, making sure that the Flash understood she was accepting his generous offer purely on behalf of the station.

Now, with the Flash standing next to her on the Channel 4 soundstage, she wasn't sure her legs would support her anymore because that weak-kneed feeling came over her as Marla finished setting up the camera. It would be unprofessional to collapse into the Flash's big shoulders, wouldn't it? She straightened up. Yes, it would be unprofessional. Still…

"Flash, really appreciate you taping this spot," she said, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight quiver in her voice. "We'll start running it two days before the Flash Museum reopens next week." The Flash smiled at her and Linda couldn't feel her legs anymore.

"Well, you know how I like being on TV," he said. "And I did promise you I'd give you an interview before Captain Boomerang and Mirror Master broke the place up."

"You forgot Captain Cold," Linda added and then immediately felt stupid. Flash didn't forget, he just didn't say. She frowned, more determined than ever to make a good impression on him. "Flash, this will only take a minute to do. I'll ask you how you feel about the reopening, you'll have about fifteen seconds to answer and then I'll close by giving the time and date and location of the museum. Okay? Do you want to rehearse?" _Please say yes._

"Nah! I'm good. Ready when you are."

Linda tried to hide her disappointment as she turned to Marla behind the camera. "Marla, let's go when you're ready. Flash, let me stand a little closer to you. Is this too close?" Her shoulder was touching his arm. She looked up into his smiling face and melted.

Marla cleared her throat and said, "Okay…Flash museum promo…take one …and we're rolling." She pointed her finger at Linda as she silently mouthed the word, "Now!"

And as if a switch had been thrown, professional television reporter Linda Park stood straight, held her microphone in front of her and said, "Hello, I'm Linda Park and with me today is the Central-Keystone area's own superhero, the Flash, who will be on hand for the grand re-opening of the Flash museum." She turned to the Flash and said, "Flash, how does it feel to know that our community feels so strongly about you, that we built a shrine to you – twice?"

Flash looked at Linda and then into the camera. "Well, you all have been so great to me over the years and I…I…wait a minute." He put a finger to his ear as Marla yelled, "Cut!"

"Go ahead," Flash said. "Yeah, put her through… Flash here…. Gee whiz… The hits keep right on coming, don't they? I'll be there in about a minute." He turned to Linda. "I have to go. I promise I'll come back as soon as I can and we'll finish this."

Linda lowered her microphone and said, "Yes, finish with me…er…yes…finish this. Here." She handed the Flash one of her business cards; she'd written her home phone number on the back. "Call me anytime and we'll set up a date. I mean, a time to do this."

Flash took her card and grinned and then zipped out of the studio. Linda shouted at the space the Flash just left, "I mean it. Anytime! Day or night!"

Marla shook her head as she turned the camera off. "Linda! Put your tongue back in your head, girl, you're drooling and creating puddles on the floor. Besides, I'm sure he's miles from here by now, so he probably didn't hear a word you said."

Linda grinned. "You missed the point, Marla. He took my card." Her grin got bigger. "The Flash has my number."

* * *

It had only been a few minutes since Wally got the call from Sonia saying to meet her at Morant's house along with the police. It didn't take him long to get to Morant's place, but then again, it never took the fastest man alive long to get anywhere. When he arrived, he knew something serious had happened just by the number of police surrounding Morant's RV. The coroner's vehicle was also a tip off.

Sonia met him at the RV door and motioned him inside. Wally glanced quickly at the vehicle door frame, entered and saw Morant slumped over on his couch. His eyes were wide open; his face was frozen in an expression of agony. His skin had a bluish tint to it almost matching the puddle of vomit in his lap. Wally watched for a moment as the coroner proceeded to prepare the body for transport.

"Flash, this is Lieutenant Julian," Sonia said, introducing Wally to the man who was clearly in charge of the ongoing hive of activity. "And Lieutenant, I think you know the Flash. He's helping me with the studio's internal investigation."

Julian nodded in Wally's direction. "May not be much here to investigate. Seems like a suicide. Just take a look at this note." He handed Wally a sheet of paper which was in a document protector. Wally handled the sheet by its edges. The note was typed, but not signed. Wally held the paper up to the light looking for a raised impression. He found one indicating the note was typed on a typewriter or printed on an impact printer. He recalled the typewriter Morant had shown him days earlier and looked for it on the table. It wasn't there.

"Yes, it's typed," Sonia said, almost like she was answering Wally unasked question. "There's a broken manual typewriter in the corner."

Wally didn't say anything as he read the note to himself:

_Scott Murphy stole my screenplay, so I killed him. The poison I used is under the sink._

Wally held the note up to the light again, looking at it from the back, hoping to see a watermark. He didn't and handed the note back to Lieutenant Julian. He sighed. "My head hurts. Did you find the poison?"

Julian shrugged. "It was right where the note said it would be."

"That typewriter doesn't look like it was accidently broken, does it?" Wally frowned.

Julian studied Wally for a long moment before saying softly, "Nope." He paused and said almost under his breath, "And in his despair, the screenwriter destroys the tool of his livelihood – except it wasn't, was it?"

"Huh?" Sonia said. Her eyes were riveted on Julian.

"I think what he's saying," Wally said, "is that the typewriter was a collectable, not a work tool, so destroying it makes no sense."

Julian gave a sly smile. "Yup, this was definitely a suicide." Wally glanced toward the kitchen area and saw police technicians scurrying about like ants.

Looking at Wally, Julian continued, "So the way I see it, our friend here, typed his farewell note, smashed his valuable typewriter in anguish, drank his poison, dialed 911 to notify the police, but didn't say anything to the 911 operator because he only had a few seconds, puked his guts out and died. Yup, typical suicide, don't you think?"

Sonia's expression was priceless. It was a stunned, slack jawed look of disbelief. Wally grinned to himself. He was starting to like this police lieutenant a lot. He'd just realized that when Julian answered his question about the location of the poison, the lieutenant didn't say the poison was where Morant said it was, but rather where the note said it was. Julian didn't believe that this was suicide at all.

Noting Sonia's look, Julian added, "Wait, that can't be right because the 911 operator didn't hear any sound including that of a man trying to throw up his liver through his mouth." He paused as if he were contemplating an equation that would solve the national debt. He smiled slowly and said, "Don't like that one? How about this one? Morant wasn't alone when he died and his visitor typed the note and dialed 911 to bring the police." He waited and then smiled at Sonia. "Ever read any Raymond Chandler stories?"

Sonia shook her head. "No, not my cup of tea."

Julian laughed. "Didn't think so. You know, people always assume the police are as stupid as they are in the movies." He grinned. "Yup, looks like our Mister Morant decided to take the big sleep."

Wally's expression remained flat. Julian was driving at something, but he wasn't exactly sure what it was.

"Like I said, looks like a suicide," Julian shrugged. He turned and walked away. He stopped and looked at Wally and frowned. "Chandler. _Big Sleep_. You want me to count three or something, like a movie? Go find a library."

* * *

Sonia had been up all night. Her back hurt, her legs ached and the chair she was sitting in didn't help either condition. After she'd left Morant's RV yesterday, she bought a copy of the Chandler novel, _The Big Sleep_ and rented a copy of the 1946 movie. She'd just closed the back cover of the book when her phone rang. It was the Flash.

"Did you figure out what Lieutenant Julian meant yesterday about Chandler?" he asked. He sounded like he was in a wind tunnel.

"I found a library," she answered. "Where are you? There's a lot of noise in the background."

"In London…fighting a bad guy who wants to blow up the world. Should be wrapping up soon."

"Oh," Sonia said softly. She heard someone in the background tell someone else to duck, but she couldn't make out who was talking to whom.

"Got to Chapter 26 in the book yet?" The wind noise stopped.

"I read it," she answered. "And I also saw the Bogart movie version of _The Big Sleep _this morning around 2 AM."

"My, you have been busy since last night."

Sonia smirked at the phone. "Busy enough to learn that line about counting three like they do in the movies was spoken to a character named Harry Jones."

"Yeah," the Flash answered. "The character Harry Jones is forced at gunpoint to drink poison given to him by his killer…."

There was a long silence and Sonia became concerned. "Flash?"

The quiet was broken about ten seconds later when the Flash, much to Sonia's relief said, "I was just thinking that Morant mentioned something about Harry Jones when I spoke to him earlier. Anyway, I'm finished here now." He paused. "One thing is for certain, Morant knew his killer because there were no signs of forced entry."

"So you noticed that too before you entered the RV. I noticed it as well. Perhaps the killer had a key to the RV."

There was a pause again before the Flash said, "Yeah, Morant said he didn't own it and he thought he would be kicked out of it in a couple of days. So, who does own it?"

Sonia made a note to look into that. She picked up a large yellow envelope that came in her morning mail, pulled out the letter that she'd read earlier. "Got something you should know. Squared M Productions intends to go forward with releasing the movie after all using existing footage and reworking the ending. Talent will be called back as needed. Wonder what made them change their mind?"

There was more silence at the Flash's end of the line, then a _whoosh_ sound outside her office and then a knock at her door. "Come in," she said. The door opened and the Flash stood before her. She looked at the phone in her hand and then at him as he grinned. She shook her head as she hung up the phone. "Neat trick."

"I also do parties and weddings," the Flash said as he sat down in her visitor chair. She offered him the letter she'd pulled out of the envelope. He glanced at it and said, "You know when this movie is released, Morant was going to have a big payday because he was going to sue the production company for theft. He said he could prove he wrote the script."

Sonia frowned. "Now the company can release the movie without fear of lawsuit. Funny how that worked out, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it makes me wonder who knew Morant was going to sue."

Sonia shook her head. "I think we need to know who else knew Morant wrote the script. I suggest we start with the grieving widow."

The Flash grinned and stood. "Millie Henoc? Well, you talk to her. I have to get back to Central City to make a television commercial in 10 minutes, but I'd like to know where Hedges suddenly got the money to finish production."

"Insurance money?" Sonia knew that wasn't right as she soon as said it. "No, it's too soon for him to get that."

"Maybe he could borrow against it if the insurance company thought the Murphy murder was solved while he awaited his payout." The Flash walked to the door.

Sonia walked to the door with him. As she opened it, she said, "I don't think that's how it works, but you did make me think of something. Don't business partners insure each other, so when one dies, the remaining partners can buy out the widow and are not forced to turn over a part of the business to the next of kin?"

The Flash grinned. "That's a thought. Make sure you ask our widow if Squared M Productions bought her out or brought her on board."

* * *

"Want a drink?" Millie said as she turned her back to Sonia and walked back toward her living room. Sonia followed her in.

"No, thanks, but I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

"No problem, but you've got to be quick. I have an appointment with a lawyer." Millie gave one of those fake Hollywood smiles and added, "What can I do for you?"

"Everybody around here is seeing lawyers, it seems," Sonia said softly. She paused looking at Millie. "Guess you heard about Jonas Morant's suicide and confession note?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Julian told me this morning."

"Lieutenant Julian was here? What did he ask you?"

"He asked if I'd ever been inside Jonas' RV before."

"Have you?" Sonia considered for a moment that Lieutenant Julian wouldn't ask a question that he didn't already know the answer to. Maybe he found something…maybe her fingerprints in the vehicle.

"Like I told the Lieutenant, sure I've been in that motor home. After all, it belonged to Scott."

Sonia worked hard not to show her surprise. "Then how come Jonas Morant was living there?"

Millie shrugged. "Because Scott let him. They were sharing that RV when production started. Scott was going to move out and live here, but he never got the chance. In fact, I gave that weasel, Jonas, two weeks to move out of the RV just yesterday."

"You were there yesterday?"

"Well, yeah. Jonas wouldn't return my calls, so I went to see him. Told him straight out to get out. I mean, after all, the RV is my property now, right? I mean, it is part of Scott's estate, right?"

"Do you have a key to the RV now?" Sonia's eyes narrowed.

"Same question the Lieutenant asked and I'll give you the same answer. I'm sure there is a key around here somewhere. Why is everyone asking all these questions?"

"What did Lieutenant Julian say when you asked him that?"

Millie looked worried. "He didn't say. You think, maybe I need to see two lawyers?"

"Two?"

"One civil and one criminal."

Sonia raised an eyebrow. "A civil one?"

"Yeah. Lieutenant Julian told me Scott was a partner in the film production company. Looks like I might own a piece of the action after all." Her fake Hollywood smile widened.

Sonia cleared her throat. "I see. Oh, by the way, has anyone from the production company contacted you yet about your holdings?"

Millie shook her head. "Not yet."

That was strange, Sonia thought, unless they didn't know that there was a widow. "This is important, Miss Henoc, but did you or your husband tell anyone you were married? Please think. Who else might have known?"

"Jonas knew because he was our witness, but we weren't going to make the announcement until after the film was released. That way, Scott said we'd get bounce-back publicity for the film." Millie shook her head. "I don't think anyone else knew."

Sonia's brain was firing on all cylinders. If Jonas Morant was a witness to the wedding, it certainly meant he knew that Scott Murphy was the same Randall Scott who stole his screenplay and claimed it as his own. That is, if Murphy gave his real name on the marriage license. Maybe the suicide note was legit. Maybe Morant did kill Murphy and took his own life out of guilt. "Did you tell Lieutenant Julian that Morant was witness to your marriage?"

The fake smile fell off Millie's face. "Yup, this morning when he asked the same question."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
****CHAPTER SIX  
****xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Matt Hedges had just closed his suitcase and moved it off his bed when his cell phone rang. His caller ID said it was a private number. "Hedges here."

"Matt, this is Millie."

"Millie, darling, what's up?" Hedges looked at his watch.

"The police were just here. They wanted to know how come I didn't drink the champagne."

Hedges frowned. "Honestly Millie, I kinda wondered about that too."

"What? What are you trying to do, you bastard, screw me over? You and I discussed it, remember? You told me not to drink because it would make the audience see that Hawkgirl couldn't be trusted, not even by the man who loved her."

"I don't remember that," Hedges said flatly. "Sorry, Millie, but my copy of the script said you both were to drink and that's what I told the police. Look, it's late and I gotta go. I got a flight I got to catch first thing tomorrow morning. Take care, darling."

Millie shouted into the phone as he was about to hang up, "Scott and I were married." Hedges was silent as this news caught him off-guard. "Did you hear me, we were married," Millie repeated.

"When?"

"Three days before he died. We weren't going to announce it until the picture was released."

Hedges took a deep breath. "So, I'm the first to know?"

"Jonas knew, but he's not here anymore, is he?"

Hedges shrugged as a small smile came across his face. "Well, I guess I'd say congratulations and condolences are in order." He looked at his watch again.

"I also know that Scott was a part owner of Squared M Productions and as his widow that makes me part owner of the production company now, doesn't it?"

Hedges was silent longer than he wanted to be. "You got proof you were married?"

"I got a ring."

Hedges cut her off. "This is Hollywood, honey. Any bimbo can buy a ring."

"And a marriage certificate," Millie continued. There was a new firmness in her voice. "Got it out of my safe deposit box today and will give it to my lawyer tomorrow unless we reach an agreement." She paused. "Look Matt, I don't want to be unreasonable. You can buy Scott's share of the company from me and I'll get out of your hair. Just pay me off with the insurance proceeds and we'll call it square, okay? I just want what's coming to me." She paused again. "Why don't you come by my place tonight and let's reach a settlement – without getting lawyers involved."

"Look I don't know what game you're running, but I'm not playing," Hedges snapped. "You think you're entitled to something. Well, here's a newsflash for you, baby, you ain't entitled to crap. As far as I'm concerned you can go to hell. Go get your lawyer and I'll see you both in court!"

He hung up, looked at his watch again and muttered, "Stupid bitch!"

* * *

Wally made a note to himself that after he left Sonia, he'd stop by Mrs. Greene's house in Central City and paint her fence, as he'd promised her he'd do before Captain Boomerang ruined his "Key to the City" ceremony.

Sonia had escorted him to a projection room on the studio lot. It was the room the studio executives used to screen the dailies, the raw unedited film shot that day. As Wally sat down in one of the big overstuffed seats, he said, "You know, I've got a lot of respect for this Lieutenant Julian. He's smart."

"Yeah," Sonia said as she sat down next to him. "He just doesn't share info well. He's a lot further ahead than he's telling us. Every time I talk to someone, it seems he has already talked to them."

Wally grinned. "He's probably got a pretty good police lab behind him helping him put the puzzle together. At least he did give us a copy of the film that was shot that night."

Sonia shook her head. "It's not film. This was a digital shoot… the whole movie is digital. It's cheaper than 35mm film. You ready to watch this?"

"Only if you got popcorn?"

Sonia shook her head in mock disapproval and handed Wally a copy of the scene's shooting script. "According to the script, this was a three camera setup. There was a camera assigned to do close ups on each actor and a camera shooting a medium frame shot. The three videos would be edited to a final product. I think they were going to try to do this in one take."

Wally frowned. "I guess they didn't want to do re-takes, at least, not in front of cameras."

"Huh?"

"Millie Henoc said this was supposed to be the wedding night …celebration."

"Yeah…okay…we'll look at the video from the medium shot camera first, then the close ups," Sonia said as she raised her hand in the air. On that signal, the lights dimmed and the projection started. Wally watched the screen.

The actors, Millie and Scott, were standing next to each other. They were smiling like they were sharing a secret. There was a voice, off camera, that said, "Are you ready?" Wally thought the voice sounded like Matt Hedges.

Both actors turned toward the camera and nodded, then Scott stepped out of the frame, so that only Millie was in the shot. A voice that wasn't Hedges yelled, "Set" and the lights dimmed. Someone, maybe Hedges, yelled, "Roll Sound." Someone else answered, "Rolling." Someone, definitely Hedges, yelled, "Roll cameras." Another voice answered, "Speeding." Another voice, off camera yelled, "Tail Slate!" Wally was sure it was Hedges who finally yelled, "Action."

The room was dimly lit by the glow of several candles. Hawkgirl was standing in the middle of her room, just a few feet from her bed. She was wearing her mask and clad only in a pajama top; she wore it backwards so that it covered her front, but allowed her harnessed wireframe wings unrestricted movement. One couldn't see her back, but it was clear that she intended to shed the top soon.

The Green Lantern entered from stage right. He wore the pajama bottoms that matched Hawkgirl's top. He held a bottle of champagne in his hand and two glasses. Hawkgirl gave him a hug. She stood on her toes to do this and visibly melted at his touch. Green Lantern smiled and looked for a place to set the bottle and the glasses down. Hawkgirl pointed to the small table at the end of her bed and the Green Lantern set the bottle down where Hawkgirl indicated. He pointed his ring hand at the bottle and the stopper popped out. They both laughed as the stopper slowly flew off camera.

The Green Lantern poured the champagne into the two glasses and offered one of the glasses to Hawkgirl. She took it in her right hand and removed her mask with her left, placing it on her nightstand. He held his glass up, she raised hers to his and they clinked glasses. Green Lantern put the glass to his lips and drank. Hawkgirl held her glass up and then set it down on the table. The Green Lantern's eyes widened first in anger, then in distress. He dropped his glass and clutching at his throat, fell to the floor with his back propped up against Hawkgirl's bed. Hawkgirl, horrified, yelled, "Scott! Scott! Help! Someone help him! Get a doctor!"

Scott's eyes were open, but he was obviously quite dead. Many people rushed on to the set. Matt Hedges hurried over and eased Scott to the floor, knocking over the glass and the bottle. The glass shattered and there was broken glass on the floor. Millie had Scott's head in her lap and was sobbing. Hedges yelled, "Where's that damn doctor!" He then turned to Jonas Morant and said, "Get this mess cleaned up before Millie gets cut. Millie, watch out for the glass! Someone help me get Scott on the bed."

Morant grabbed the bottle, the glasses and the large pieces of broken glass and moved off camera. Someone bent over and whispered something in Hedges ear. Hedges turned, waved at the camera and yelled, "Cut!"

The projection room lights came on and Sonia said, "Seen enough?"

Wally sighed. "Yup. Morant lied when he said he got a phone call from Hedges telling him Murphy was ill. He was on the set when the scene was shot." He pointed at the script. "Hawkgirl was supposed to drink the toast with Green Lantern and when she didn't, Murphy was clearly surprised." He paused. "She said it wasn't in her script to drink the toast even through it is clearly in _this_ script for her to do so. Of course, I wouldn't drink the champagne either if I knew it was poisoned."

"Assuming Lieutenant Julian knows what we know, why hasn't he arrested her yet?"

"Because Lieutenant Julian is smart, that's why. He might, and it's a stretch, be able to make the case that Millie and Morant collaborated to poison Murphy for personal reasons and that Millie killed Morant to avoid blackmail over the script."

Sonia nodded in agreement. "That's how I'd make it."

"Honestly, so would I except Millie Henoc was truly devastated by the death of Scott Murphy the night I saw her after leaving the set and I don't think she was acting. So, if she didn't know the bottle was poisoned, she'd have no reason to kill Morant, would she?"

Sonia frowned. "No, she wouldn't, assuming that she wasn't acting the part of grieving widow just for you. Of course, if she later thought Morant killed her husband, she'd have a motive of revenge to kill him, wouldn't she?"

Wally was silent for a moment and then had a thought of realization as he said, "Of course! That's why he hasn't arrested her, yet." Wally said as he stood. "Even if Lieutenant Julian believed Millie and Morant were in on this together, he can't make a case for the third death."

Sonia's eyes widened. "Third? I don't understand. There was Morant and Murphy…who is the other one?"

Wally smirked. "Maybe the one we've all ignored, Norman Reese, the special effects supervisor. A lot of this happened because he wasn't on the set that day. Maybe his car running off the road that morning was no accident. Because if he's on the set that evening, Jonas Morant gives the champagne bottle to him and not to –"

Sonia's jaw drops as she said, "Matt Hedges."

* * *

Millie looked at the clock on the wall. It was 10:30 PM. There was nothing on the TV and she was about to go to bed when her doorbell rang. Persistently.

"Hold your horses," she shouted at door. "I'm coming. Who is it?" She looked through the peephole in the door and smiled. It was Matt Hedges.

"It's me, Matt," he answered. "I thought about our phone call and I want to apologize and do what's right."

Millie opened the door and let him in. She looked out her driveway. "Where'd you park? I don't see your car." She closed the door behind him as he walked past her.

Hedges turned. "Oh, it's down the street. Look, I'm sorry to come by so late. Did I catch you at a bad time? I mean, do you have company?"

"No, I'm alone." She yawned and continued, "But I'm really tired, so let's cut to the chase. How much will you pay to buy me out?"

Hedges shook his head. "Let me see a marriage certificate first."

Mille walked over to a table, opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope. She removed a sheet of paper and held it up for Hedges to see. He reached for it and she snatched it out of his reach saying, "Oh no, my new partner. You may look, but you may not touch. See? Duly signed, sealed and witnessed."

He looked closely at the paper and then stepped back and sighed. "I see you used your real names, Mildred Honeycutt and Randall Scott."

"That's the only way it's legal in California."

She put the certificate back in the envelope and put the envelope back in the drawer. She then pulled out a paper clipped stack of papers and set them down on table. She turned back to Hedges and said, "Now about that settlement."

Hedges took a deep breath and said, "There's no insurance money. I've already borrowed against it to finish the film. I didn't know Scott was married and would have a beneficiary." He turned away and said, "I can raise maybe $100,000." He turned back to face her. "Would you settle for that?"

Millie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, Matt. Scott's share of the company has to be worth more like five times that." She paused. "How much did Jonas ask for?"

The question clearly caught Hedges off-guard. He hesitated before answering, "Why would I offer to pay Murphy's assistant anything?"

Millie worked hard to keep her voice flat. "Because he told you he was going to sue after the film was released because he could prove he wrote the script."

"That bag of crap wasn't going to sue anybody," Hedges snapped. "He couldn't. Don't you know? He killed Murphy. The police found the poison he used, found a suicide note, found the glasses from the set in his RV."

"Yeah, glasses with my fingerprints on them."

"Your fingerprints?" Hedges stood up, his stare hardened. "I think our business is concluded. If the police found your prints that could only mean you were Morant's accomplice in Murphy's poisoning. Yeah. Come to think of it, that would be why you didn't drink the champagne."

"No!" Millie snapped back. "I didn't drink it because you told me you wanted a surprised look from Scott when Hawkgirl didn't drink the toast. You told me that you wanted to capture the range of real emotions his face would display. I annotated what you said on my copy of the script." She grabbed the stack of papers off the table and shoved them into Hedge's chest.

He glanced at the papers, shrugged and dropped them to the floor. "You could have written this annotation anytime, even tonight."

"I could have, but we both know when I wrote it, don't we? Why are you stalling?" Millie paused, then a look of horror came across her face. "Oh, my God! It wasn't Jonas. It was you. You killed Scott, then you killed Jonas."

"Okay," Hedges said as he bent over, picked up the sheets of paper on the floor and placed them on the table. "Now you're delusional." He shook his head at her. "But for the sake of argument, how did I kill Scott?"

Millie backed away Hedges. "The champagne. The bottle had to be opened before we filmed the scene so the special effect shot could show the Green Lantern using his ring to open the bottle. You must have poisoned the bottle sometime between the bottle being opened and the visual marker being inserted. Then you knocked the bottle and glasses over and told Jonas to remove the bottle and broken glass before the police closed the site."

Hedges shook his head and headed for the door. "So now according to you, the confessed murderer was my accomplice, huh? And he helped me kill my star? Jonas Morant killed Scott because Scott stole his screenplay. Don't you know that?" He threw his hand up at her in a dismissive fashion. "I'll see you in court, Millie. Good night!"

Millie let Hedges get to door before she called out after him. "You didn't worry about killing your star. You wanted to kill your business partner. Scott must have told you he stole Jonas' script because…" She hesitated. "Because he told me he did. And if he did tell you and you as the managing partner knew, you would have had personal as well as corporate liability for the damages. You would have been ruined. Is that what Scott said to make you kill him?"

Hedges stopped in his tracks and his shoulders sagged, "Millie, why couldn't you just leave stuff alone?" He took a deep breath, turned around, exhaled loudly, and walked back to the table. He picked up the papers he'd placed there and put them in his pocket. "Scott said he was going to leave the company the moment the film went into post-production. He said he was going to testify for Morant that I was the one who put his name on the script we sold to the funding company. He said he'd say that he only went along because he was afraid that I'd make sure that he'd never work in this town again if he didn't."

Millie's eyes widened as Hedges shook his head. "Get that? He was going to testify against me after he'd already been paid $225K for a screenplay he was going to claim that I stole." He laughed. "Scott Murphy was a crook and that scum was going to leave me holding the bag with Morant for damages. And then to cap it off, that stupid little piss-ant Morant tried to blackmail me because he figured out I poisoned the bottle. He wanted half a million from me to keep quiet. Well, he's quiet now and it didn't cost me a dime." Hedges pulled out a snub nose revolver from his pocket and pointed it at Millie. "I really like you, Millie, but I think our brief partnership needs to be dissolved."

Millie tried to catch her breath. She'd never make to the door before he shot her and they both knew it. Her voice shook. "So Jonas didn't kill Scott. You did and then you killed Jonas, making it look like a suicide. Are you going to kill me, too? How are you going to explain that? You keep killing people on this film and sooner or later the police will figure out it is you because you'll be the only one left alive."

Hedges smiled. "I'm scouting locations for a film in Europe tomorrow morning. And somehow, I don't think I'll be coming back to the States anytime soon… and certainly not for your funeral." His smile widened. "But I'll be sure to say nice things about you to the press, like how tragic your loss is and how you must have been so overcome with grief that you felt you had no option but to commit suicide."

"I have no intention of taking my own life."

"Ah, Millie, that's what I will miss about you - that wide-eyed sense of optimism. But sadly, I think you _will_ die tonight. Sit down in that chair." He motioned with the pistol toward her favorite chair.

Millie moved toward the chair. "I guess it was a good thing for you that Norman Reese had an accident that day." She sat down.

Hedges stood behind the chair. Millie couldn't see him, but gasped when she felt the cold metal of the pistol barrel against her right temple. "He had a little help having an accident," Hedges said. "You know, I really liked Norman, but you'd be surprised how hard it is to steer and stop a car if the power steering and brake lines are cut. Now let's see. Distraught widow ends it all with a bullet to the temple…just like in the movies."

"Yeah, a really bad movie," a familiar voice said. Millie turned and saw the Flash, police Lieutenant Julian and Sonia Alcania standing in the room. Millie jumped up and faced a surprised Hedges as Lieutenant Julian yelled, "Drop the gun, Hedges! It's all over. You're under arrest!"

"They got it all on tape, Matt," Millie smirked. "You're finished. From the moment I called you from the police station they've been watching you. They knew you'd come after me as soon I told you Scott and I were married and I was now an owner in the company."

She turned toward Lieutenant Julian. "I ought to submit this performance to the academy for consideration. I'd be sure to get an award."

Hedges scowled at Millie. "What you'll get is a bullet. You set me up." In a swift motion, he raised and pointed the gun at Millie. But in a split second, a red blur streaked between Millie and Hedges and the next thing Millie knew the Flash was standing next to her holding Hedges' gun.

Flash shook his head as he handed the gun to Lieutenant Julian. "Why do people always want to do it the hard way?"

"Because they don't know any other way," Julian said as he put the handcuffs on Hedges.

* * *

Morning came too quickly as far as Sonia was concerned. By the time they'd finished with the police, it was almost 2 AM. She wanted to sleep in, but the Flash asked to meet her in her office early the next morning.

"How early?" she asked.

"8:30, please," was all he said before he zipped off into the night on what she guessed to be League business. She was on her third cup of coffee when she heard what had become a familiar _swoosh_ sound outside her office door and then a knock. She checked her watch. He was on time.

She opened the door and the Flash stood in the hall. She handed him a copy of _Variety_ as he entered. "Don't know if you heard, but the movie project was cancelled this morning."

"I'm not surprised. Scott Murphy lied and cheated everyone he came in contact with to make this movie." The Flash shook his head as he took a seat in her visitor's chair. "What I don't understand is why he screwed over so many people to get this film made? Was it that important to him?"

Sonia shook her head. "I have no idea. I've discovered during my time here in California that Hollywood is pure cut-throat country and Murphy appeared to have been a shark among minnows." She sighed; her lips formed a tight line. "He reminded me of a line from a movie I once saw about how some men just want to watch the world burn." She paused and pointed at the newspaper in the Flash's hand. "On a side note, _Variety_ is reporting that Wayne Entertainment offered to buy the script and the unfinished film this morning for an undisclosed amount."

The Flash grinned. "Well, I hope Millie Henoc seriously considers the offer and will do what will work out best for her." The Flash looked at the headline of the newspaper Sonia had handed him which read: _Movie Director Implicated in the Death of Hollywood Special Effects Supervisor_.

"The police have Hedges' taped confession to tampering with Norman Reese's vehicle prior to his accident," Sonia said, shifting her glance between the Flash and the newspaper. "So I guess you're heading back to Central City."

The Flash stood and nodded. "I'm sure Lieutenant Julian can make the case against Hedges on at least one of those three murders or at least the attempted one on Millie Henoc without me. There is no reason for me to stay in Hollywood."

"Well, if there's anything you need…." She didn't finish the sentence, but instead offered her business card. "I know you already have one, but just wanted to make sure you have my number." She stood and gave him her best smile.

The Flash took her card; pulled out another card he already had, studied that card for a moment and then placed that card on top of the one Sonia had just given him. "I'll be sure to visit, but I somehow think my business in Central City will keep me away from Hollywood for a long time." He grinned and opened the door, nodded at her and zipped out the door down the hall so fast, his backdraft slammed Sonia's office door shut and pulled practically all the papers off her desk, scattering them on the floor.

Sonia bent down, picked up the papers and placed them back on her desk. "That's not a bad exit," she said, frowning and shaking her head at the door. Then she slowly smiled. "Not nearly as good as the one Batman makes, but still…not a bad exit."

END


End file.
